


divine

by vorpalblades



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Gen, Minor Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Prideful Teenage Assholes Make Bad Decisions, Spoilers c1e106, Spoilers through Campaign 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 17:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorpalblades/pseuds/vorpalblades
Summary: “Do you think we’ll ever have gods in our lives?” ~Keyleth, The Endless AtheneumA god does choose Percy.





	divine

**Author's Note:**

> This is me, the person who spent pretty much every day from Jan. to Nov. 2018 watching through the Vox Machina campaign bit by bit for the first time. And then went back and rewatched the last 15 episodes to pick them apart because this idea SCREAMED at me, demanding to be written, and I wanted to get all of the details and quotes from the existing canon exactly right.
> 
> So, in celebration of the upcoming return of Vox Machina and the Search for Grog coming up in January, I present my first foray into CR fic.

“Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III. You have always been a student of knowledge and a seeker of truths. I’m fond of your hunger for understanding, but you do keep your secrets and are selfish with your discoveries still. You have much growing to do.”

Ioun turns her gaze from him, focusing on the member of Vox Machina she _did_ choose, and Percy can’t figure out why he thought this time would go any differently.

Denied by The Raven Queen, who told him he was broken. Practically ignored by Pelor, the patron of his home. And now Ioun…

Did she really call him a madman?

Later, when Vex asks if he’s alright, he smiles and lies.

*****

They return to the charred, wasted remains of Sprigg’s cabin, and Keyleth just has to poke the sore spot, asking him if he ever thinks they’ll have gods in their lives. It’s probably why he still feels bitter when Vecna shows himself, the smugness dripping in the lich’s voice as he brags about his ascension.

Vax gets in Vecna’s face, tries to rile him up by mocking the missing eye, and the lich shrugs it off with a skeletal rictus stretched across his face. “My vision sees _far_ more than it once did,” he says, and the green glow in the socket flickers between them all, pausing the tiniest bit on Percy before moving on. His grin grows even wider.

“Come to me…whenever you like,” he taunts the group.

 _Especially you, young de Rolo,_ the lich’s whispered voice crawls insidiously through Percy’s mind. _Oh, those other gods truly are fools to let you slip through their fingers._

Percy looks around the room, but everyone’s gaze is firmly on Vecna, no indication they’re also receiving telepathic flattery. _Go to hell_ , he thinks back, and a soft chuckle echoes through his thoughts.

Out loud, he hears Vecna tell Vox Machina, “I offer you the chance to stand down, discard your imprisoned gods, and pledge to me.”

 _A smart man like you,_ the whisper continues, calm and luring, _who knows the value, the_ importance _of secrets._

 _You would be welcome._

Percy’s friends start throwing out insults, answering Vecna’s vocal threats with mockery, but Percy still feels a little thrown. He hopes his nerves don’t show when he adds his own comment to the fray. “You know, I think as generous as this offer is, we just don’t enjoy associating with new money. Let’s get out of here now.”

Vecna’s laughter follows them as they run to the tree Keyleth points out, its bark breaking apart into a familiar portal as they rush at it. Percy makes sure everyone jumps through the portal to Vasselheim safely before following, and one last whisper catches him as he steps through.

_You would be chosen._

*****

He’s quiet in Vasselheim, in the Raven’s Crest, in Scanlan’s mansion. Vex joins Grog and Scanlan on their trip to speak with Earthbreaker Groon, Keyleth and Vax head downstairs to the spa to wash off the remnants of Vax’s communion with his deity, Pike is in her room, and Percy is left to his own devices.

Which has never been a good thing.

He paces as he thinks on what just happened. He’s a fool for even contemplating Vecna’s words, he _knows_ this. If there is anything he learned from the horrendous mistake that was Orthax, it’s that no good comes from believing those who promise him everything he wants, especially when those promises are the lies of an evil, desperate creature. 

Vecna knows how capable Vox Machina is. He knows they have a plan to take him down. He would say anything to stop them.

 _Except he’s the god of secrets, not falsehoods,_ Percy thinks before he can stop himself. And that one word -- chosen…

His aimless wandering has brought him back to the foyer of the mansion, and his hand is on the doorknob without him even realizing it. He steels himself with a deep breath, pulls open the door and steps out. 

The communion chamber is just as they left it before stepping into the mansion, complete with a trail of blood Vax left from the pool to where Scanlan set up the door. It is quiet with no one around, and Percy gathers that those who reside in the temple will not enter this room while the Raven Queen’s champion is using it.

_A chosen champion…_

“Can you hear me?” he asks the quiet, circling around the pool and searching the chamber as he does so.

“To think,” comes the hissing, snide voice from behind Percy, and he whips around to find Vecna standing between him and the mansion door, looking down at the pool. “The method to my own ascension came from someone who uses viscera to decorate her temple. So disappointing.” The lich lifts his gaze, one milky blue iris and that otherworldly green glowing socket focused entirely on Percy. “Young Percival. I was so hoping we could continue our talk.”

His voice echoes through the room, and Percy is instantly on alert. It’s too loud, this was a stupid idea, he’s going to get caught speaking with the fucking _enemy_ , and he immediately looks at the chamber door, anticipating one of the temple guards to come bursting through to investigate the noise.

“Don’t worry,” Vecna interrupts his panic. “This conversation is between us. No one can hear. Not even her.” He stretches one gaunt, gnarled finger down to point at the pool, then brings it up to cross over his lips. “It’s our little secret.”

 _This is such a mistake_ , Percy tells himself, and he knows the right thing would be to march straight through the lich’s illusionary form back into the mansion and never tell anyone he even considered this madness. Instead, he can’t stop himself from asking, “What did you mean before?”

“Exactly what it sounded like,” Vecna says, stepping closer to Percy as he speaks. “You have such potential, Percival, and I can see it, value it. I already have those who have wisely chosen me, followers, more by the hour. I have acolytes, those that beseech my good will. But you, you would be the one that I myself picked.

“Imagine, being the chosen one of the only deity on the material plane.”

*****

It’s a restless night, full of what-ifs and why-nots. The offer is so tempting, so terrifying…and flattering, even if it may be a ploy. But as he lays there thinking about it, he realizes that all of his friends, every single one of them, approached their gods first. None of them were actively pursued by one.

It’s a powerful realization.

He looks to Vex, asleep by his side, and gently brushes back a lock of hair that has fallen over her face. Will she hate him, if he accepts?

“Would you spare her?” He barely breathes the words, wary of her acute hearing even in her sleep. “Would you spare them all?”

 _They stand as my enemies,_ comes the reply, low and rasped in his mind. _But for you, I will try. And if you can stop them, then I won’t_ need _to fight them._

*****

They head for Scaldseat, and sometime between the boat ride and finding a way to break into a damn volcano, Percy realizes that the voice has been silent. No whispers, no promises, just quiet.

Awaiting an answer.

He stalls.

He doesn’t take a single shot against the bulettes. He lets the others find the paths they’ll take. He does everything he can to put off making this impossible decision, and it works until they get to the smelting room.

It’s his own curiosity that dooms him. When he inspects the room’s guardian and accidentally activates all three, it starts an unheard countdown clock. The battle is a whirlwind, and now he fights to keep himself and his friends alive. 

There’s a moment of panic when he hexes one of the constructs, and the thick swirls of black and purple smoke that surround the guardian are streaked with a sickly glowing green. It’s faint and fades quickly into the darker colors, but Percy holds his breath until it’s clear everyone else was too distracted to notice both it or the fact that the necrotic magic seems much more powerful than usual. A show of strength to come.

Once the constructs are down, it takes him only a glance to realize the pyramid pieces should be cast in gold. It makes sense for the lock and key to be made of the same material. But if they don’t open this door -- and he’s never been so happy to see an impenetrable door before in his life -- then they won’t have the tools to make the trammels. So, he stays silent as they smelt the platinum and cast the molds incorrectly. He helps put the assembled key into place, knowing the wrong answer would frustrate and dishearten the team. He even recommends using the golem bodies instead, knowing it would destroy the pyramid molds for any future use and keep the forge locked forever.

But Vex, his beautiful, _smart_ Vex’ahlia, figures it out, suggests using gold instead, and he’s almost out of time.

The fight with the giant stone guardian protecting the Core Anvil is a welcome distraction. He fakes his guns misfiring at the start, giving him time to investigate the anvil’s tools. If he can find a way to stop this, to block them from making the trammels and taking the fight to Vecna…

Except this forge guardian is huge, and now his friends are going blind as they fight. And he will _not_ abandon them in this. So he steps back and unloads on the thing, shot after shot, trying to do as much damage as possible. When Keyleth in her planetar form is able to land the final blow that causes the guardian to go inert, they have a moment to breathe and recover in the sweltering heat of the forge, and Percy silently panics again.

His time is up.

He can feel his friends’ eyes on him as he and Grog begin the forging process, feels the metaphorical weight on his shoulders along with the very real pounding headache that Ioun caused with her “gifted” knowledge of the trammel creation. It’s frustrating how little time it takes for Grog to smelt down the platinum and create the ingots.

When Scanlan presents that first bead of divinity, _his_ gift from Ioun, Percy can feel that resentment boil back up again. It’s almost satisfying watching Grog smash the bead to dust across the anvil, watching that little bit of a god who rejected him be destroyed, and Percy finds himself smiling at it as he works the tongs counter to Grog folding and shaping the metal. 

Then it’s Pelor’s bead that’s obliterated, shattered with a blinding flash of the sun before his eyes, and suddenly that satisfaction is replaced by the dawning realization that he has to make a choice now.

It’s almost a relief when Grog fails to smash the third bead with his first blow of the hammer. And with the second. If Grog ruins this on his own, then…

The thought is interrupted by a resounding third slam against the anvil and the sudden and chilled blackout that surrounds them as the Raven Queen’s bead is turned to dust.

His mind races furiously as he helps stretch the blanks into pointed rods. There’s a moment when he sees a chance, when there’s a weakness in the form that could nullify their work, but Grog with his newfound blacksmithing knowledge notices it too, corrects the flaws, and moves on to twisting the pieces as well.

Finally, it’s down to the very last part of the process, the scrollwork, which is all on Percy. He looks at the newly shrunk hammer and chisel in his hands and feels sick. 

His friends cheer when he completes the first trammel, the scrollwork flawless in its design and execution. He can barely remember even working on it; the knowledge came so effortlessly. He examines the engraved enchantment work as he sets it aside and catches the golden sheen across the platinum -- this one was made with Pelor’s bead, then. 

As he picks up the chisel to begin working on the next trammel, a flash of black obsidian streaks across the metal, and he knows that this one is _hers_. There's a sting in his heart as he remembers that first rejection again, and for a moment, all he wants to do is hurt her back, show her she was wrong, gloat that he _was_ accepted. His friends are distracted, inspecting and admiring the first completed piece, and he sees his chance.

_They’ll never know._

He angles the chisel just off the proper spot and brings down the hammer. When he lifts the tools, he can see that the new mark is carved too deep into the metal, nearly completely through. 

It’s weakened. 

That black sheen catches his eye again, and he feels the corner of his mouth twitch as he completes the remaining scrollwork on this and the third trammel.

 _Well done,_ Vecna’s voice echoes in his head, _my champion._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still deciding if I'll leave it here or continue through the end of the VM storyline, so it's marked incomplete for now. Whee!


End file.
